Following the Strandline

by Linda L Zern

  The children turned to look at the dead boy.

  Tess turned so that the children’s backs were to the Amazons and their friend’s body. Grabbing the girl, River, by the shoulders, she gave her a quick shake. “Talk fast. I don’t know how much time they’ll give us. What did you need to tell me?”

  Ignoring Tess’s question the girl objected, “He was just frightened.” River sounded more angry than sad. The others stood dry eyed in shock.

  “I know, but that’s not what we need to talk about right now. What was Christmas whispering to me back there?”

  River chewed her fingernails. Christmas sniffled in earnest.

  Tess snapped, “Tell me! Back there when you were pretending to cry.” Tess turned to Christmas.

  Christmas shook her head once, clenched her teeth, focused on Tess’s mouth, and blurted out, “We found it.” A quick smile transformed the girl’s face.

  “Found what? What are you talking about?”

  “An underground place, a hole, down in the ground. We found the grandfather’s bunker. Mister Jon showed us. The fire jumped over the water, burned parts of the big tree woods, on this side of the river. We found it after we stood in the river. The hole in the dirt. They’re there. Everyone, even Mister Kilmer and Jess T, and that boy, Samuel, he found us too.”

  Tess had forgotten about the sad young man with the midnight eyes. She shook off all the questions that jittered through her mind, focused on the most important one. She bent down to stare into River’s face. “Weapons?”

  Christmas started to answer, but Tess shushed her when the one Britt called Hilly came to hover over them.

  “What do you want?” Tess demanded.

  “Britt needs to talk to you.” She pushed River back and the others when they tried to follow Tess. “Not you kids.”

  “Stop that. Let me settle them.” Tess walked the children closer to the trees. She whispered, “Pay attention.”

  “You kids stay put,” Hilly said. “And we don’t want that man of yours. We don’t need no man. None of us.”

  “You sure about that? He’s her brother. Did you know that? El too. They used to call him Ryan, back before. Didn’t know that did you? Because you might want to catch up.”

  The big woman turned stunned eyes away from Tess and the children to stare at Britt.

  CHAPTER 39

  Trapped. El’s soldiers felt trapped inside the mud triangle of the fort’s walls.

  The closer Myra got, the worse the tension grew; El could see it in their faces. This was the first time they’d dug in. Too many of them only felt safe when they were moving—fighting, killing, but always running.

  The problem was that nothing ever got planted or fixed or healed while you were running. The problem was that you couldn’t run forever.

  She’d tried to explain it to them a couple of times: why the Marketplace needed to be their last stand; why they couldn’t be on the offensive forever. But she could feel her strength fading out, the disease winning. And the others, all the people who’d come on their own when they’d heard that Marco Fortix had been finished, his empire smashed—what was she supposed to tell them? They came like religious pilgrims drawn to the idea of peace and security. They tended to be too ready to settle in and let others guard the walls for them.

  El needed Tess and soon. Britt would bring Tess back and Parrish with her, and having him with her was all right, if that’s what it took to get Tess to stay.

  El ordered the big gate sealed shut.

  They fused the front gate with hot pine pitch and random hunks of barbed wire woven around and through the log frame without having seen any sign of Britt and Tess or Britt’s squad.

  Myra’s advance scouts arrived two hours after they’d sealed the gate.

  The preparations she’d demanded ran through her head in an endless loop: weapons, wall, water, food, medicine, and more food.

  Let Myra burn herself out battering at the earthworks around the fortress. Besides, what were Myra’s goons going to eat now that they’d burned down the world? El thought about the months of stocking up and plotting, the day and night work on the wall. Hopefully, it would be enough.

  Two hundred and seventy-three souls, counting the newest babies, and the Marketplace felt packed. Even the kids had been given tasks to complete to prepare for the siege.

  El wiped sweat from her face.

  Pain dug at her spine—a ripping knife blade, twisted by an indifferent hand. She went over the list again, anything to distract from the endless pain. She chewed her lip until she tasted blood.

  A shoe scraped, followed by a dry cough. El swiped at her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “Ella?” Roy Terry’s voice held a hint of pity. She wouldn’t have it. Fury burned through her. If Roy Terry had owned a hat, he’d have been wringing it. He didn’t try to meet her eyes.

  She leaned forward away from the agony and stood slowly so she could stare down at him.

  “They said you wanted to see me.”

  “Terry, I don’t have time to play with you.” Nausea made her gag. She turned her back to him. “As you can probably tell.” She heard him shuffle closer, caught the movement of his hand as he reached out to help her, make some inane gesture of kindness. She held him off with the flat of her hand. “No. You don’t get to help me. Not now. You are way too late.”

  He stepped back.

  “I knew you from the beginning—then and now. Believed you would try to save us from Myra, because of who you were supposed to be. And I recognized you, when you walked in with Tess. I thought if I ever saw you again, I’d kill you.” She shrugged off the irony of the thought. “Let’s not play any more games. I don’t have time for it.”

  Was he looking at her? Could he see the bones that threatened to burst through her skin?

  She turned to face him and saw the pity. She felt the harsh burn of tears. She choked them down. “Crap. I must be sicker than I know.”

  “Why? Because you’re human, Ella?” He walked around her to the rocking chair, adjusted a pillow for her. “Sit down. Try to rest.”

  She shook her head. “It hardly matters now if I sit or stand, and don’t call me that. Don’t say my name that way.”

  He ignored her dismissal and led her to the chair. “What is it?” His voice was soft.

  “Cancer, most likely. Some sort. Cervical, ovarian. Some little gift given to me by the men aboard your woman’s ship. It’s hard to say, but it’s a death sentence. That I do know.”

  “Not my woman. She was never my woman.” Terry stepped back. There was horror on his face as he shook his head.

  “No? Not your woman, but your what? Your Master? Your cousin’s woman, certainly, and if he’s alive, he’s still with her.”

  “Colon.” It was his turn to look sick to his stomach. “I don’t know what to tell you about him. He was ex-military, demolition, he was a hero—”

  “A hero?” She shook her head. “Hardly. Boy-O, that’s what he called himself when he came below deck to visit.” Another spear point lanced along her spine and she bent forward, lost her balance, would have fallen forward had he not caught her. She struggled against his help. He stepped back.

  “Miss El, they said you wanted to see me, and I’m thinking there’s something more for you to say than pointing out to me that my cousin will be outside the gates soon, hoping to drink my blood. You should also know that we’ve picked up some more stragglers from outside before the gate was sealed. Doc Midge is dealing with them. A young man, a pregnant girl, a woman, some kids. The doctor will bring you her report soon.”

  El had to sit. She tried to reject his help, but he ignored her and braced her weight with his body, until she was able to drop back into the rocking chair.

  “Fine. Here’s what I have to say. Are you a Trojan Horse that I’ve invited into the inner sanctum, ready to throw the gates open to our enemies?”

  He knelt in front of El’s rocking chair throne. “I’m here to help yo
u stop Myra. She’s beyond reason. And I was wrong for believing that she meant to let all of you go. I was wrong.”

  El barked another laugh. “You’re a little late, coming to that conclusion. You didn’t think that keeping us chained below deck was a problem? We were her slaves. Her ‘girls’. Trading in slaves. No age limit. No waiting.”

  “It wasn’t like that at first. It wasn’t. She took people in—at first. But then it became something else. El, she’s taken to fishing for shark.”

  The throbbing emotion in his eyes warned her.

  “Why don’t I think you’re talking about sport fishing?”

  He shook his head, thinned his lips. “No, it’s not the fishing. It’s the bait she’s using.”

  She grabbed his hand, squeezed hard enough to make him blink, didn’t ask for details. She could guess. “Terry, fine. I need you to help me stop her. Make a place where she and those like her can’t hurt us anymore. Where she can’t take the girls, the children. Where children can grow up, or what’s the point? Help me make this place impregnable. You know her. You know the enemy. Help me.”

  “El, she’s gone mad. How can anyone know what the mad will do? She has to die. There’s nothing else.”

  CHAPTER 40

  Parrish watched desperate worry for Ally and the others settle over Tess. He could feel Britt’s rigid need for control, the children’s sadness. They’d be lucky to get out of this without someone else dying.

  Tess and Britt squared off. The children refused to stay where Tess left them. They followed her like baby ducks. Hilly looked confused at their disobedience.

  At some unseen order, Britt’s squad started to unwrap their faces until they stood in a semi-circle of dull eyes. One of the boys gasped, but stood his ground—trying to be tough and uncaring.

  “What are you doing out here, anyway?” Britt pointed to the children, glaring at Tess. “And you!” She stabbed her finger at Tess. “You won’t make us regret anything we’ve done. You can’t.” She shouted at the children, “I said, ‘what are you doing out here?’ How do you know this woman? You’re coming with us. I don’t need you out here, giving away our position to the bad guys.”

  Tess stiffened at the anger in Britt’s voice. Parrish stepped between them.

  Christmas wouldn’t be distracted. “We can’t leave our friend for the birds. His name was Nick. That was his real name,” Christmas offered. “It was the one he came with, his first name—sometimes we tell if we can remember.” She looked up at Britt, fearless. “We already said why we are out here to Miss Tess. We helped Jamie and Miss Gwen and her big boys and Stone with Ally after we found the hole.”

  A flock of black crows exploded up from the fringe of trees behind them, making everyone jump at the clattering racket. Carrion birds picking over the battlefield, unsettled by the fire. A few of the women searched the trees for whatever had frightened the flock. After a minute, they seemed satisfied that they were alone. The birds settled, black-feathered pearls strung out along the branches.

  “Enough of this. Tess. Parrish. We are leaving. We’ll leave the kids somewhere safe enough.”

  “Don’t drag these children into whatever El wants with us,” Tess said. “Me and Parrish, we’ll go with you. But do you really want or need more mouths to feed?”

  Tess didn’t bother looking at the Amazons; their focus was on Britt, who raked a hand through her thick, dark hair.

  “This ends now. We’re moving. El needs us. We’ve wasted too much time on this. The children are coming until I say they’re not.”

  Parrish stepped into the circle. “Britt, they won’t go. They won’t leave the boy’s body—”

  The blast of gunfire over their heads acted like an anvil. Everyone dropped, bellies flat to the dirt, to lay as still as the body of a dead child in the grass next to them.

  A voice rang out from the shadows of the tree line. “Tessla Lane, children, it’s time to come home. Olly olly oxen free.”

  Tess jumped to her feet, moving before anyone could stop her. She knew that voice, Sammy. She headed toward his voice.

  Parrish shouted, “Go!” The children scattered into the dusty tree line. Parrish followed.

  Britt and the other women cowered in the grass. Another blast of gunfire discouraged the Amazons pinned down in the field. No one returned fire. Britt wasn’t looking for a firefight.

  The children had scattered into the forest like squirrels. Tess felt Parrish reach for her hand as he dragged her to crouch behind the trunk of a pine tree at the edge of the field. River stumbled, went down in the dirt at their feet, and crawled her way into a clump of palmettos. The Amazons were still. Their silence was almost more worrying than a pitched battle. Almost.

  “Why aren’t they fighting back?” Tess hissed.

  Parrish pulled her closer. He whispered, “Not worth it. The guy shooting was smart to use names. They know it’s not the invaders, marching on the Marketplace.” Dropping to his knees next to her, Parrish took a chance and glanced around the tree trunk.

  Samuel Holt, his hands wrapped around a sleek, well-oiled AR-15, poked his head out from behind the trunk of a slash pine next to them. He gave Tess a wave and grinned.

  Shrugging, Parrish said, “It’s a rescue, I guess.”

  “Tess, tell them not to shoot.” Britt sounded as calm and unconcerned as if she were someone knocking on a front door coming for an afternoon visit. “We’re talking. We need to talk.”

  “The rifle,” Parrish whispered to Tess. “They know a good weapon when they hear it. They’ll be curious.”

  “How can we trust them? They killed that boy in cold blood.”

  Parrish stood up, pressing her into the rough bark of the slash pine with his body, keeping her out of the line of potential fire. She could feel the way his heart hammered in reaction.

  “Tess, your sister’s trapped at the Marketplace and those other people, my sister too. We need to think this through—together.” Britt made a certain kind of sense.

  “What do you think?” Parrish said against Tess’s ear.

  Tess looked into his serious green eyes, nodded, and called out, “Throw down your weapons. All of them. And they won’t shoot.”

  The Amazons sat in a circle in the shadow of one of the oak trees where the slash pines gave way to the heavier hardwoods. At the edge of the woods where the sandy ground dipped toward the river and became the loom of a hardwood hammock, they waited. It was one of the precious stands of wooded ground still standing after the capricious, leapfrogging wildfire.

  Britt sat in the middle of the women. Tess had to admire her cool under pressure, the way she’d shut down a bloodbath and the way she’d pulled it together after her breakdown. It felt slick and practiced. The women sat silently waiting for Tess and Parrish to finish debating.

  Under her breath Tess explained to him, “That’s what the children were trying to tell us. They found it. The bunker. We knew there had to be one. Remember, Parrish? You said that there had to be somewhere on the property where Grandfather stockpiled more weapons, ammunition. It’s the missing cache.”

  Tess and Parrish had followed the guy she’d called Samuel back to Sorrell’s body. It put them far enough away from the Amazons to be out of earshot. There were decisions to be made, not the least of which was what to do about Britt’s women.

  The children crept back from the woods one by one to stand next to the body of their friend; their eyes watchful, their movements careful and small. Silently, Samuel dug a grave with a collapsible shovel he carried in his backpack. It was a new pack that looked like it had come straight off a shelf at some department store. More evidence that the bunker was real and stockpiled.

  Samuel talked as he dug, occasionally looking back at the ring of Amazons. Tess joined him in digging, using a wedge of stripped bark to help. “The fire burned the scrub down to the dirt. That’s how we found it. There was a trapdoor, metal. One of those kids you’ve got running all over the place fell over the handl
e. He tripped over it,” Sam explained. He grew silent as he carefully wrapped the body in a sleeveless shirt. “Mister Lane, your dad, he put us on to it. He headed us in the right direction.”

  “But what about Ally?” Tess asked.

  Tess crossed her arms, unconsciously trying to comfort herself. Parrish gave her an encouraging smile. “Why take her to the Marketplace?” he asked Samuel.

  “Gwen didn’t know what to do,” Samuel said, eyes shadowed and worried, not looking at Tess. “She didn’t know where else to get help. We found one of the horses in the river. They made a drag and took her. I came out here to round up some of the Doe Kids. Your father sent me to drag them back. He said they sometimes have a tendency to wander.”

  Tess closed her eyes. “And you found us. Where is my father? My sister? The others?”

  “Securing the bunker.”

  Parrish squatted next to the child-sized grave, stared at the boy once named Nick. “There’ll be a siege at the Marketplace at the very least. With weapons we could make a difference.” He squeezed her fingers. “But it will be bloody and ugly and senseless. My first instinct is to drag you out of here and go as far and as fast as our legs can carry us.”

  Parrish caught Britt studying them. He knew that Tess would never run, never leave the people she was responsible for.

  “Tess, if we stay out in the open we’ll have to fight. Scorched earth and more shallow graves and no one left to dig them. El’s fort might be our last, best choice.”

  “How do we dare trust the Amazons?”

  “That’s a question a leader would ask.”

  The children began to fill the grave with dirt.

  Britt stood up slowly, ignored the looks and murmurs of her squad, and walked to stand next to the open grave. She said, “I think I know what this conversation is about, or I can guess. And I’ve only got one thing to say: You don’t have a choice. We need each other because those murderers marching on the fortress won’t stop until they’ve killed everyone and everything inside, including your sister and your friends and my sister and my friends. And then they’ll turn this land into a bigger graveyard than it already is.” The muscles in her jaw worked. “I know these people. Who do you think turned us into the killers of small boys?” Britt turned and walked away.